Nix. (Den of Mercenaries Book 3)(24)

“In a sense, yes.”

As another guard passed, Luna muttered to herself, “Is he expecting an army?”

It was Fang that answered her. “If whoever tries to breach this place wants to get out alive, yeah, they’ll need an army.”

“Nix should be here shortly,” Aidra said, “sit where you like.”

In the light of day, the dining room table felt larger, the decor more vibrant, and once again she was struck with the ridiculous urge that she didn’t belong there, but she ignored it and pulled the same chair out she’d sat in the night before.

She was only there for a matter of seconds before she heard a chair scrape back and Fang appeared at her side, folding muscular arms across his chest. There was a tattoo there along his forearm, the only one that she could visibly see besides the X on his neck. A massive cross.

“Where’d you come from?”

Luna wanted to be surprised that he had come right out and asked, but unlike his friends at the other end of the table, she got the impression that he was always this forthright, but that didn’t mean she was willing to share.

“Does it matter?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

“I’m asking you.”

His smile widened. “I’m curious.”

“Then maybe you should ask Kit.”

“I did.”

“And what did he tell you?”

Fang shrugged. “That you were none of my business.”

“Oh.” That was an answer Luna hadn’t expected.

“So I thought I would come to the source.”

“Nosy bastard,” Thanatos said from his end of the table, green eyes trained on them.

Fang turned his head in Thanatos’ direction with a scowl. “Suck a cock.”

“Language,” Invictus said, though he never bothered to look up—as though this was something they did regularly.

T?cut just smirked.

“No one else wants to know why she just popped up?”

Thanatos shook his head, going back to his book. “She’s not the job.”

Fang looked at him in mock disgust. “Fucking boring, all of you.”

If she had to guess, they were all around the same age, mid twenties if she had to guess.

She also found that she wasn’t very nervous around Fang.

“Give me something,” Fang went on. “I’m dying here. Even Aidra won’t tell me anything—what’s the big secret?”

Even if she wanted to answer, she couldn’t because she didn’t know either. No one had told her why Uilleam had brought her here.

“Why—”

“Isn’t there something you’re meant to be doing?” Aidra asked as she came back into the room.

Fang’s stance changed as his smile grew. “Not really.”

“Then find something.”

She gestured for him to follow with a crook of her finger, the others pushing out of their chairs to go along. Fang’s amused chuckle still echoed even after they were gone.

Once she was alone, Luna didn’t remain at the table, instead going over to the windows, peering out.

“I hope you’re not planning on going out that window. The door isn’t very far.”

Luna’s heart skipped a beat as she spun to face Kit. “Just looking.”

“No harm in that,” he said.

Now that he was here, Luna didn’t find the view nearly as interesting—she was more curious about the conversation he promised they would have.

After he had gone off last night, leaving her to her own devices, she had taken the food he’d left and climbed into bed, devouring everything as she contemplated his words. She had mulled them over for hours until her eyes drooped.

“Until your blood work is back,” Kit said, “we won’t be able to start your training until then.”

“Training?”

The door to the kitchen popped open, their food delivered before the man disappeared back the way he came.

“We have a lot to discuss, and while it may be uncomfortable, your time with Emmett and Lawrence needs to be discussed as well. I can’t say that I won’t offend you again, but I’ll mind my words.”

“Why?” Luna asked. “Why is what happened there so important?”

It was one thing speaking about the kidnapping that was seared into the back of her mind, but her time with Lawrence … there was just something about that first event that she could speak of distantly, yet when she even thought about Lawrence, it made her stomach turn.

And just the thought of sharing with him the three long years she had spent as Lawrence’s toy to do with as he pleased—recounting every horrible thing he had ever done had her close to an anxiety attack.

She didn’t want to talk about, nor did she even want to think about him.

More than anything, she wanted to put it behind her and pretend as though it had never happened.

As though he could read her thoughts, he said, “Don’t let anyone have that kind of power over you. It doesn’t have to define you.”

“What do you want to know?” she asked reluctantly.

“Ask the question you want answered.”

“Sorry?”

Before he answered, Kit pulled the dome off her plate, revealing the food beneath—sausage, toast, eggs—a proper breakfast.